Like Father Like Daughter
by CuriTeaist
Summary: Deb discovers Dexter's secret and has a choice to make.


The first time it happened I didn't know what to think. I was confused and scared. Petrified really. I was left there, alone in dark, huddled against a cold cement wall, barely brave enough to so much as let out a whimper. I remember how sorry I was I ever decided to follow my brother. How I wish I could have just left him alone.

It all started when I wanted to go out for drinks - it had been a long day in Vice - with my brother. But Dexter said he had 'stuff' to do. After a long, stressful day, I just wasn't in the mood to take 'no' for an answer.

"What stuff do you have to do? ", I snapped at him. I was sick of it. He always said he had stuff to do, and he never said what. Just 'stuff'. I decided it was time for me to learn what his 'stuff' really was.

"Stuff", I predicted his response perfectly. He hung up without bothering to wait for my reply. The fucking bastard. No, not just 'stuff'. I wanted to know what the fuck he meant when he said 'stuff'. What sort of 'stuff' does he do?

So I followed him. It was stupid idea, I know that now. In fact, I would say it was the worst mistake of my life. If I had one redo, I would redo that night.

But there are no redoes in life. I did follow him. I waited outside his apartment. He was wearing a tight long sleeve shirt and gloves. The way he moved changed. Everything changed about him. He didn't even seem like my brother then. He moved quickly and quietly, with precision and purpose. I felt like I had stepped into a secret, alternate world. A place I wasn't suppose to ever find out about. I thought it was just a feeling, so I followed him anyway. I was wrong. It wasn't just a feeling, it was my instinct telling me the truth.

I followed him to a bar an hour away. I felt cheated and lied to. He went to a bar, just a few minutes after he shot down my offer to go to a bar. He insisted on going alone. He was up to something, I knew it then. I just didn't know that 'something' could be so gruesome.

What could have driven him to drive across town to go into some dark bar, you ask? I thought it was just a drinking expenditure at first, but then I realized that didn't add up. Did he have to meet someone? That was my next thought. My guess was for drugs. That my brother was a secret junkie. That didn't add up either - I can usually tell if someone is using - but I thought it was the worst possible thing, that it had to be it.

I was an idiot.

He never did enter the bar. He just sat in his car, watching the door, checking the time. He did this for two full hours. I was just waiting for his dealer to walk out of the bar and hand him the stuff. Then I could jump out and catch him red-handed. He couldn't deny that way. He wouldn't be able to convince me what I was so sure was the truth was wrong.

A slob walked out of the bar after too many fucking hours. I'm not sure if those two hours in limbo, aware something is wrong with my brother, but still had no idea how fucked up he really is, were good or bad. I spent two hours trying to piece together my brother's addiction and plan an intervention, all the while silently crying at what a blind idiot I was. Those were the last two hours of my innocence. Dexter got out of his car and followed the slob.

I thought at first it was his dealer, and Dexter was trying to catch up with him. Then I saw the way my brother moved. It was precise and purposeful again. Like a lion stalking a gazelle. No, there was no 'like' about it. He was an animal, hunting his prey. He got just inches from him before grabbing him. It was dark in that lonely parking lot. I'm not sure if my mind just filled in the blank spot of not, but Dexter, the man who laughs and kids and brings us all donuts, jammed a needle into the man's neck. He was out instantly. Just like that, his body dropped. Dexter caught him though. Dragged him into an empty building right next to the bar.

I remember what it was like, sitting there in my car. How I gripped the steering wheel so tight that my hands went numb. I had just learned that my brother wasn't a junkie. I wasn't fully aware of the truth, but I knew too much. I knew this wasn't some little drug addiction. I suddenly missed the idea of my brother with a needle in his arm, passed out in some cheap motel.

I'm not sure how long I spent just staring at the cold, empty building. I wasn't sure what was going on inside, but I knew it was bad. Evil. It was like my brother was a werewolf. The sweet and kind man that I grew up with had turned into a wild beast, and had dragged his prey into there. To do what? I didn't know then, and I wish I don't know now. The images still haunt me to this day.

I could have driven home. I could have just turned on the radio and pretended that I was interested the shitty internet survey that they were joking about. Tell myself this was all a dream, or that it wasn't my brother who just kidnapped a man. I could have.

I didn't.

No, because I'm stupid like that, I had to crawl further into the rabbit hole, to expose every inch of the monster the lives inside my brother.

I settled myself near a window that gave me a perfect view. I saw everything. I wish I didn't, but I did. I saw how precisely my brother had bound the man with plastic wrap. How he cut into the flesh with such accuracy and ease. How he smiled a happy little smile when the bone saw hit the intestines.

I got sick, lost my dinner. Dexter didn't notice, but I was afraid he would. Because in that moment, the Dexter I knew and loved was gone. The man in the building was dangerous. I was crying, scared that he'd find me. That he'd kill me just like that other guy. That the monster in there would smell my fear and gut me alive.

It lasted roughly an hour. I can't be sure. It seemed like ten hours, but Dexter walked out of the building and started loading garbage bags into the trunk of his car. I wanted to close my eyes. I never wanted to see how easily my brother can load up his trunk with pieces of humans. How he can calmly drive away. He even fucking signaled as he pulled out of the parking lot.

And I was left there, thinking about everything I saw. How easy this all was for him. Almost as though it was all from a well-rehearsed script. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. It was. He had done this before. Lots of time. The way that he staked them out, stalked them, knocked them out. Butchered them. It was all well practiced.

It left me with a lot of questions. Who did he kill and why? The 'who?' question was easier to deal with then why. 'Who?' was simply asking for facts. A name. It wasn't easy to get a name, but Scott Aril was his name. Tried for killing two women in college, but got off on a technicality. This lead into the 'why?' question. Dexter never knew either of the women, but did he know what happened to them? Did he feel that he had to correct the penal system's mistakes?

Or was he some evil monster, just the man that he killed? With no conscience or regret? The idea scared me. That if he ever found out that I saw him, he's killed me too. That he'd cut me up. The idea haunted me for weeks.

I shied away from him for a while after that. It is understandable, no one can tell me it isn't. The question then was, what to do? Should I ignore it, pretend none of it happened? Should I confront him and hope that he won't kill me? Or should I turn him in? I had no idea what to do. The question taunted me. Ignore, confront, or betray? It was like some sort of sick board game where I drew a shitty card and had to decide what to do with it. I wasn't having fun. It wasn't until several weeks of nightmares and long nights later that I finally made a choice.

"Hey Deb", Dexter said to me, smiling, as he walked into the department. I stared at him, panic rising. I had to tell myself that he isn't going to kill me about dozen times before I settled down enough to not run. His smile started to drop. "Here", he said, holding a white box to me. I looked at it, and back to him, starting to panic again. I was afraid it was a fucking human head, or something sick like that.

I took the box carefully, afraid of what is inside. Dexter just stared and I almost bolted for the door. Images of him smiling evilly, saying that he found out what I saw, and killing, butchering me, swarmed into me head. My hand shook as I opened it.

It wasn't a head. Or any of the numerous things that I imagined. It was a cake. A miniature cake with white frosting and 'I'm sorry' written on it with red.

"I'm not sure what I did, but I really am sorry that I managed to piss you off. Again", he said, looking me dead in the eyes. They were the same eyes that Dexter always had. The same pair of eyes that I grew up with. No different than they were three weeks ago. The lack of emotions and social grace seemed to piece together, forming a complete picture. But all the pieces were always there. This is still the Dexter I know.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and tried and act normal.

"No. You didn't do anything", I wasn't sure at the time if it was true or not. "Why don't we split it?", I offered. Dexter looked confused. I wondered if he is confused a lot. If our human customs were bizarre to him.

We took it to the break room. I grabbed some plates and he opened a drawer. A knife. The idea still frightened me at the time. The imagine of Dexter sawing through flesh and bone didn't leave me for a while after.

"I'll cut it", I offered. He looked at me for a moment before he offered me a blade. I bit back a gasp at the sight of him, once again, smiling with a knife in hand. I just nodded thanks and grabbed it. I tried to force a smile on my face. Dexter didn't seem to notice how forced it was though. I realize now he isn't just socially awkward. It's more like socially retarded. He just has fucking no idea how humans work. But back then I still had the vague feeling he knew exactly what was happening, as though he could read my mind.

I cut the small cake into four pieces and placed a couples of slices on plates.

He bit into it and gave me an approving smile. I tried not to think about his smiling face as he cut a man in two as I smiled back.

I followed him a total of two more times after that. I didn't watch him actually...well, you know, do the deed. I couldn't watch that again. But I saw the faces, I got names. Both of them were killers that escaped jail. Both deserved exactly what they got.

Dexter isn't a monster, I finally decided. Dexter is a monster hunter. I walk through the station, seeking out my brother of a monster hunter. I'm not sure what goes on in his head, what emotions he does or doesn't feel, what morals he may or may not have. What exactly his drive for killing is. I don't know. And I know better than to pry again.

I find him at his desk, as expected.

"Hey Dex, wanna go out for drinks?", I ask. He turns around and smiles that smile of his at me.

"Sorry, I got plans tonight. How about tomorrow?", I smile the same smile he has. The images that come to me makes me want to heave - still - but I know that the world will have one less killer after tonight.

"Sounds good", and I walk away, dropping my smile. What my brother does is not pretty, but somehow, I think our dad would approve.


End file.
